


cursive

by rathma



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Don’t copy to another site, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 03:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19844611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathma/pseuds/rathma
Summary: Hancock has bigger problems to deal with that aren't archaic forms of writing permanently etched on his arm.





	cursive

**Author's Note:**

> god this is waaaaaaaaay old but i re-read it and it turns out im still a sap for soulmate AUs lmao. dont look at me
> 
> its the uh, kind where the first words your soulmate say to you are on your arm i guess. dont think about the logistics too hard and its a good time.

John knew that whoever his soulmate was, was utterly fucked.

“Your face… something happen?”

The then human man laughed at the innocuous words on his wrist, written in swooping script he had to get Daisy to read for him. 

“It’s cursive, another relic of the past.” she explained, smiling slightly as she read the words.

“It’s fucked up is what it is.” John retorted, narrowing his eyes at his mark trying to make it legible before wandering off back into the thick of the city

The words paint his life from that point on however. Every injury, every single risk he takes he wonders if it’s going to be the one to leave him so disfigured his own soulmate would ask about it.

“Who knows, maybe it’ll give me a kinda sexy, grizzled merc look.” he laughs over drinks, ignoring the thought that the words aren’t likely the flustered question of a smitten drifter.

He thinks it doesn’t matter and he’s kind of glad to be free of the mystery when he’s left Diamond City and Goodneighbor, a pre-war canister in his hand and in an abandoned building nearby that's just perfect to hide and wallow in.

A single hit later and he’s rolling, his eyes fluttering and all worries about soulmates and tyranny and shitty fucking brothers he doesn’t have the spine to stand up to evaporate instantly. No guilt, just a high he swears gets better with every breath. He blacks out.

One frock coat with a tricorn, a new name, and one revolution later, he’s the goddamn mayor of Goodneighbor.

It’s not the ideal outcome if the twist of guilt in his stomach upon seeing his mark is any indication, but he finds a degree of peace he never had as everyone left wandering and lost from his brother's city make their way to him, grateful and happy. Soulmates can wait.

The coat covers up his mark but can’t cover up everything that happens over the next few years.

It starts with his skin seeming to dry out and crack and peel painfully. Fahrenheit, a merc who took to being a ruthless right hand like a mirelurk took to water, tells him to ride it out and hands him another syringe of Med-X.

Hancock is horrified and spends most of the time high as his skin begins to peel in large patches, his sturdy wastelander form shrinks and his golden curls fall out. The jet helps, making it seem like he’s falling apart much slower than he is.

Finally it’s over and Daisy and Bobbi are gruff comforts, welcoming him to the No-Nose club. Bobbi in particular enjoys that while Hancock grimaces, his formerly playful name for her equally applicable to him as well.

It helps though, being a ghoul.

Those who were kicked from Diamond City look up to him in a strange way now.

“Smooth skin ain’t a barrier no more.” they say, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re livin’ proof, Hancock. We don’t gotta sit down and take shit from no one.”

Hancock smiles and nods, but inside his stomach twists painfully again as he knows the only reason they’re here is because he sat down and let McDonough, a name he refuses to consider his own, drive them out. The only reason he’s a ghoul is because he ran instead of trying to stop the local tyrants who were, as he found out through Vic, nothing more than flesh and blood. 

Just like him. 

Just like McDonough who he’ll never get close to now to finally end his time as a dictator, ruling with smooth skin and a back that only bends when those from the upper stands press down on him.

A back he had many chances to bury a knife in.

A new drifter waltzes in almost five years after Hancock’s life-changing trip and somehow, this one feels different.

Rich brown skin dusted with freckles, bright green eyes behind a large pair of glasses, and messy black hair pulled into a small bun that manage to catch Hancock’s eye. Finn’s as well apparently.

One short altercation later and he’s talking to the man, wiping his knife on the front of his coat, the blood mucher deeper than the faded red of it.

“You all right, brother?”

The man gapes, a moment passes, then he speaks.

“Your face…”

Hancock’s veins turn to ice and his inky black eyes lock with the others.

“Something happen?”

Hancock's heart stops and he swears he's dying. He'd given up on meeting whoever his soulmate was. Everyone knew what a ghoul was, there wasn't a single person around who would have the kind of ignorance needed to ask.

Unless the guy was a huge prick.

"Wait, you're-"

Ideas of the man being a complete jackass here to make light of his emaciated form leave when he's flushed and fumbling to roll up his sleeve. 

There it is in Hancock's own scrawl. "You all right, brother?"

The man's laughing and smiling, apologies for being so blunt falling from full lips and Hancock's ears are ringing.

It's like that high all over again but not. Things are clearer than when he's opted for mentats. He's sober but time feels like it's moved to a crawl as he watches the man tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear and introduces himself properly.

All the cheesy shit he read in pre-war books hits him all at once and he can't find the snappy remark he had thought up to say when, if ever at all, he met his soulmate.

He smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> if the facts are all wack, blame me from two years ago. me now barely remembers what happened in fo4 lmao >_>


End file.
